


happy anniversary, darling

by anonfic61



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Felching, Filth, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Simon and Baz are older and married, Smut, again it's just smut, little bit of vampy stuff, okay serious tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonfic61/pseuds/anonfic61
Summary: It's Simon and Baz's anniversary, and Simon has some big (filthy) plans.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	happy anniversary, darling

**Author's Note:**

> remember when i said that femslash was the dirtiest thing i ever wrote. yeah. not anymore.
> 
> staying anon even though the discord (thanks for the kink help!) knows my name because again, my account is sfw and known my people i know irl. id never be able to look them in the eyes again.
> 
> (same anon that wrote golden and sweet/slick. maybe i should just make a smut account lmaoooo)(edit: i now have a smut account)

BAZ

I’m going to be late.

It’s not my fault. My car is in the shop, and the train was delayed.

But it’s our anniversary. One of them-we were married four years ago today. It was one of the best days of my life then, and it still is now.

I had plans for tonight.

Simon does all of the cooking, because I’m shite at it. (I blame my emotionally-distant father and my devil-may-care aunt for that.) But I have a nice bottle of wine- rosé, because Simon likes the “pink” wine. 

I’ve corrected him a million times. He’s called it pink wine since he first had it.

I love it. It annoys me, of course, but there’s something so  _ Simon  _ about it. (It’s the Simon I thought I’d never get back, when we were young and stupid.)

I walk into our flat twenty minutes later than I wanted to-and even that’s a miracle-and Simon’s sitting on the couch, watching some program.

He looks at me and smiles and I fall just a little bit more in love.

“Hello, darling,” Simon says. He pats the seat next to him and I drop into it heavily, still clutching the bottle of wine in one hand.

He kisses me before I can return his greeting.

He kisses me and it’s all I can do, gasping into his mouth and pushing my hand through his curls.

He pulls away and we both take a breath. He’s smiling so softly. 

I smile back.

“Hi, love,” I return and I don’t care that my voice cracks. I’m long done being embarrassed around him. I press our foreheads together.

“So,” he starts. “I have a plan for tonight.”

I look at him and raise one eyebrow. “A plan?” I ask.

He grins and it sends shivers down my spine. “A filthy plan,” he confides, and if it were anyone else I’d say they purred it. 

But this is Simon, and he isn’t like anyone. He says it simply, laying it out like a simple fact of the universe.

I’ve never been more in love.

I’m also extremely aroused.

“And what is this dastardly plan of yours, Snow?” I tease. He keeps grinning at me, smiling like an idiot.

I want to lick him. I want to pull him apart and taste the soul that make him what he is.

I settle for licking a long stripe across his cheek instead, and to his credit Simon barely blinks. He rolls his eyes, but it’s playful, and he’s smiling while he does.

“Well,” he says and he could take me apart with that voice. I bite his adam's apple instead.    
  


“Well?” I prompt when he leans into me instead of saying anything. I let my fangs slip just a little bit, enough to scrape a small nick into his collarbone. I lick up the red that drips from it and let it settle on my tongue.

“I’m going to do dirty things to you,” he teases. I roll my eyes and suck his earlobe into my mouth.

His breathing goes ragged. I grin against his cheek.

“Please love,” I purr. “Tell me in detail all the filthy things you want to do to me.”

“Well,” he says again. “This is pretty high up on the list.” And he grabs me by the hair, taking a lovely fistful and yanking my head backwards. I let him pull me, savour the sting of it.

He licks a long stripe up my throat. “We match,” I choke out, only half intentionally.

Simon pauses at my collarbone and I can look down just far enough to see his soft smile. “Yeah,” he whispers into my chest. “We do.”

And he bites down  _ hard _ .

I cry out and push toward him, and his grip on my hair tightens. 

Oh,  _ this _ . This is going to be  _ wonderful _ .

Not how I expected to spend my anniversary, but all the better for it.

I’m not going to be able to walk right for  _ days _ .

  
  


SIMON   
  


I was going to make this nice.

A slow, sweet end to our night. Four years married, and nine total-it’s more than I ever thought I’d get, with anyone.

And it’s with Baz.

Baz, who has a snowflake tattooed on his chest, who wears a matching ring, who has an ongoing obsession with licking me and dancing around the flat in tiny pants. I love him.

I lick one last stripe across his chest and neck and push him down. He goes easily, settling on the floor between my knees and looking up at me with eyes gone black.

“Well,” I say again. I can’t help it. “I think we’ll start with this, yes?”

Baz blinks up at me and nods eagerly. I grin. “Two snaps for slow down, three for stop,” I remind him. He rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Snow, I remember.” It’s too snarky. 

“Say it back,” I demand, threading my fingers through his hair again. His eyes flutter, but he repeats it back to me breathlessly.

Good. Now I can start.

I unbuckle my belt and toss it across the room. It clatters against the far wall. Baz huffs-he hates mess. (That kind of mess.)

I lift up to push my trousers down and Baz helps me strip them off and throw them away. (He’s too horny to be arsed to care about the mess now. It’s my thighs, I think-he’ll wax poetic about them whenever he gets half the chance.)

He opens his mouth. I don’t wait to let him speak, pulling him by the hair instead. 

  
  


BAZ   
  


He pushes me forward and I come in direct contact with his lovely thighs.

Simon’s grinding hard against my face, pushing me down and his hips up. I stick my tongue out-my fangs stay in, they haven’t popped unwillingly in years now-and try to lick him through his pants.

I’m mostly just spreading spit over my face, but I don’t care much. I’m too worked up to.

I whine and he finally takes mercy on me, stripping his now-wet pants off and throwing them aside. (I’m too worked up to care about that, too.)

Then he’s in my mouth and his warmth and his blood and the heavy, clean-sweat scent of him is taking me over.

  
  


SIMON

I guide him up and down my cock and Baz takes it like he was meant to.

He chokes a bit, at first, but after a minute he stops trying to shove his head down and lets me control the pace. I do, pushing him down and down and keeping him there, feeling his throat clench around me slick and warm.

I should have him spell me.  _ Candle in the wind _ , or something. (We tried it, once. Neither of us could walk for weeks after.)

Then a lightbulb goes off and I have the blank spots in my plans filled out neatly. 

Good.

  
  


BAZ   
  


He’s holding me down with his cock in my throat and I’m trying to breathe through my nose. All I can smell and see and taste is him, is Simon deep in me.

He pulls me off and I gasp in a breath, just enough to fill my lungs before I lean forward and take him again.

It’s wet and messy and I’m covered in spit and drooling from the corners of my mouth. There are tears leaking from my eyes and trailing down my face.

I’m also impossibly hard.

I go down again.

SIMON

I keep going, holding him down and letting him up until he’s wrecked. (I am, too.)

Baz’s hair is a wild mess and his little bit of eyeliner is smeared. I love it.

I let go of his hair and push him back a little. He sits back on his ankles, looking up at me.

“Take off your kit,” I demand. He does, stripping so fast I’d think it was his vampire speed if I didn’t know better.

And then he’s standing in front of me, naked and wrecked and hard enough to cut stone.

I stand too and step in front of him. I lean down a bit to kiss the snowflake tattoo over his heart and he whines again. I bit down.

I hold on with my teeth in him until he quiets, then step back and meet his eyes.

“Bedroom,” I say. “Get the handcuffs and the lube.” I grin at him mischievously and watch his adam’s apple bob. “The edible kind.”

He moans and goes, walking that funny little I’m-so-hard-it-hurts walk. I wait until he’s in the bedroom with the door shut to move. I don’t want to come yet. I need to cool down.

I strip off my shirt and follow him in.

  
  


BAZ

I fucking love the handcuffs.

And edible lube...if this is going where I think it is, I’ll be the luckiest man half-alive. (I already am.) I won’t be able to sit without a cushioning charm for days.

  
  


SIMON

I find Baz sitting on the edge of our bed with the stuff set next to him.

Perfect. I tell him so and he preens, just a little bit.

“Now lay back,” I tell him. He does, sprawling over our bed. I step forward and pick up the handcuffs-they’re more restraints than actual handcuffs, really, but we call them that anyway. It’s a long length of purple leather, with loops and hooks and shite like an odd sized belt. 

I fasten one end around his wrist and the other to the headboard. He tugs carefully, but I’ve done it up tight and he can’t move much. He grins up at me, wild and toothy. 

There’s still spit all over my cock and it’s cooling a little uncomfortably. I straddle Baz’s chest and when I push forward he opens his mouth and takes my cock again easily.

I love this. I tell him so, indulge his praise kink with sweet words while I rub my cockhead over his tongue and feel him moan and whine.

I fumble behind me for the lube for only a second before Baz hands it to me. He must have been holding it-it’s warm.

I pour some out into my hand and lick it. It tastes like cherries-good. We get this one specially ordered, because all of the Normal’s “edible” lube still tastes like bad plastic to me.

I lean back and feel around, then slide one finger into Baz. He clenches around me, gasping.

His height’s all in his legs. When we’re laying down like this I can tease over his swollen mouth while I finger him slowly.

“How’s that, baby?” I ask. Baz moans again. “Want another?”

His free hand clenches on my thigh. I take it as a yes.

  
  


BAZ   
  


He’s going to kill me.

He’s two fingers deep and going so slow I’m about to crawl out of my skin. I want to kiss him. I want to bite his wonderful thighs. I want him to call me baby again, in that lovely deep voice of his.

I want, most of all, for him to  _ fuck me _ .

  
  


SIMON

I open him up for a long time, until I’m four fingers in and he’s making a noise low in his throat. His fangs are out. (Wicked.) I talk to him the whole time, letting him bite small nicks into my thighs.

He licks away the drips of blood. (I always look like I’ve been the victim of a particularly vicious or after we fuck. I don’t mind.)

I deem him ready when my back is starting to hurt from leaning like this. I move to the end of the bed and tugs his legs over my shoulders.

“Baby,” I croon and he looks at me with blown-out eyes. “Still here?”

“Yes,” he says. His voice is rough and scratchy. I did that.

“Good,” I say and pat where I’m holding his knee. 

  
I line myself up and press forward, until I’m buried all the way to the base and he’s looking at me.

Baz reaches for his neglected cock and scowls at me when I grab his hand and lace our fingers together instead. Our rings clink.

I start fucking him hard, pushing as deep as I can. It’s a game, sort of, trying to find the spot that makes him yell and arch off the bed.

When I do find it I keep that angle, hammering into him harder and harder. I grip the base of his cock with my other hand, and he writes under me, pouring out a constant stream of  _ yesyespleaseyes _ .

I come still pressing deep into him. 

  
  


BAZ

I feel it. 

I love when Simon comes in me. Like I can have just a little bit of him with me, even after we’re done with this.

He pulls out and I feel it drip out of me. I moan again.

Simon undoes the handcuff and I lower my arm. I don’t wait, flipping him over and straddling his chest in a reverse of what we did earlier.

“Simon,” I growl. It comes out rougher than I wanted. I can’t be arsed to care. 

“Baz,” he says. I love the way he says my name.

“Let me,” I demand. He smirks, sucking the tip of my cock into his mouth. I buckle over him. It’s hot, so hot, and  _ wet _ .

I want more.

Simon’s hands dig into my thigh and my hip as he pulls me forward until I’m sitting over his face.

Oh,  _ no _ .

There’s no way he can know of this particular weakness of mine. I’ve never told anybody, and yet…

I’m sitting over his face, and he’s sucking his own come out of me.

I moan loudly and throw my head back. 

Then his other hand moves to my cock, and I’m done for.

I’m coming harder than I ever have with Simon Snow-Pitch’s tongue buried in me and his hand on my cock.

Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.

…

SIMON

Dinner is long cold by the time we drag ourselves out of bed and to the kitchen.

Baz heats it up with a quick spell and we eat leaning against the counter, face to face. He kisses me every third or so bite, and it’s a long time before we’re finished.

That night I lay against his chest in our bed. I turn my head, just enough to lay a soft kiss over his tattoo.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” I whisper.

“Happy anniversary,” he echoes. I see his smile even in the dark. “And here’s to many more.”

**Author's Note:**

> thx for reading!! comments and kudos are very welcome, and if you comment i'm going to be screaming about it for days lol.
> 
> also. i posted this six hours ago and then went to bed. it has 200 hits. damn! did the tags lure you in lmao


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